


The Fate of the Queen's Reprisal

by darthneko



Series: What Matters Most [5]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Bad Dog Genn, For the Alliance, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M, World of Warcraft: Legion Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2019-05-25 12:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14977208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthneko/pseuds/darthneko
Summary: On the Broken Isles everyone has and does do their part for the cause... even if the politics of said cause are sometimes complicated.





	The Fate of the Queen's Reprisal

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a chapter in the bits and pieces collection "Life is to be Savored" - I'm breaking them out into individual fics so that things can be put in chronological order.

The Worgen’s eyes were bright and Ren imagined the heavy plate helm on his head must be uncomfortable if his ears were trying to prick up the way a Pandaren’s would have been. “This might be the most significant intel of this campaign,” he said gruffly, but his claws here careful as he almost reverently flipped through the water stained pages of the captain’s log that Ren and his cousin had fished out of the wreckage of a Forsaken ship. 

Those bright eyes turned sharper, narrowing, as the lieutenant glanced at Ren, taking in worn, stained armor and the tired figure of a Pandaren. His nostrils twitched for a moment, but he only shook his head. “Well done, monk,” he said gruffly. “I will see to it personally that this gets into Lord Greymane’s hands. No one else needs to know of it, you understand?”

Ren, highly aware of the surrounding guards who were, one and all, Worgen from Genn Greymane’s personal corps, pasted his best serene expression on, pressed his hands together, and bowed smoothly. Satisfied, Lieutenant Surtees dismissed him with a grunt and Ren turned to leave, the hackles along his back itching until he was well quit of the interior of the enclave. His cousin was waiting for him in the outer portal room, where the blue Alliance flags were still draped in mourning black; Hardwire took one look and didn’t comment as he fell into step beside Ren, following him back out into the streets. 

Ren didn’t stop until they were a block away, the usual bustle of Dalaran’s citizens and proliferate street vendors washing away sound and sight of the Worgen stationed outside of the Alliance enclave. “Well?” Hardwire demanded.

“He’s never served in the Palace.” Ren sighed, scratching absently at one of his cheek braids where salt was drying into his fur. “None of them have. I didn’t recognize their scents, and none of them recognized mine.” He glanced down at himself distastefully, shaking one foot that had sand and a bit of some sea plant caught beneath his claws. “Granted, I need a bath, but it’s not _that_ bad.” He grinned at his cousin. “He had no idea he was telling the King’s consort that he intends to keep the intel for Greymane only.”

Hardwire snorted, patting one of the satchels at his belt. “And no idea it wasn’t the original?”

“Not a bit,” Ren said, and if he was slightly smug about it, well, it had been a suitable test of his scribing skills to duplicate the Forsaken text in the deceased ship captain’s tight, scratched handwriting. Compared to that, the binding and purposeful distressing of the book had been simple. Master Cho would doubtless be pleased to hear his copying talents hadn’t gone to waste. “Nor that the locations might not be… quite correct.” He shrugged, shaking his head in a show of mock bafflement. “The captain’s handwriting was quite bad, and that gutterspeak they use is hardly a real language.”

Hardwire chuckled, his grin all sharp teeth, and patted Ren consolingly on the shoulder. “You did your best, I’m sure.” The grin slipped away to a slight frown. “That’s your part done. Get some rest.”

Ren nodded without complaint, knowing his cousin could see his exhaustion. The rest of Dalaran, looking at them, might see only two Pandaren monks in the typical hodgepodge of gear that most mercenaries wore, but he knew Hardwire could see how loose some of the armor still fit him and the way Ren had wrapped padding beneath his breastplate to make up the difference and keep it from chafing. He was sure it showed in his face, even if his hood hid the lowered position of his ears. He was holding his own, fearless with his cousin at his back, but he was still more tired than he would have liked for such a short excursion. “I’ll go pay up our tab with the Blood Elves,” he told Hardwire. “Their food and their beds are better.”

“And their company,” Hardwire muttered, glancing back to where a pair of off-duty Worgen guards were disappearing into the human run inn behind them. He scowled at his cousin. “Make sure you eat something _before_ you sleep. We’re running it off of you as fast as you put it on.”

“I will,” Ren promised. He glanced at the satchel that contained the original log book they had found. “You’re headed back to the Shrine?”

“Yes,” Hardwire said promptly, which meant he was actually probably headed to the Exodar, then to a meandering trip through several flight paths around Kalimdor before he would find a work-for-hire mage to create a portal to Ironforge and eventually emerging back into Stormwind via the tram system. Ren just nodded and Hardwire huffed. “Anything you want to send to our mate?”

Ren grinned and hooked a claw in his cousin’s collar, tugging him in for a brief kiss, then a longer one. “One for him and one for you,” he told Hardwire, scratching briefly along his cousin’s tangled beard. “I’ll expect you back tomorrow?”

“Unless something happens,” Hardwire confirmed, nuzzling him. “Don’t wait up.”

“I’ll save you some of those pastries they make for breakfast,” Ren promised, and waved his cousin off, turning with a little more energy towards the Legerdemain Lounge and the hoped for promise of a hot bath.


End file.
